


Louder, faster, harder

by Donya



Series: Dashingfrost [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Loki, Dashingfrost - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Fandroki - Freeform, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/Donya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fandral pleasures his prince. Smutty Fandroki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Louder, faster, harder

  
Fandral loved all the noises Loki made. From quiet, barely audible sighs and whimpers when he was stretched to screams that the whole Asgard heard. At the beginning Loki always tried to pretend none of Fandral's tricks worked on him but it was such an obvious lie. Blushed cheeks, blown pupils, hair damp with sweat, Loki could not hide how much he cherished Fandral's ministrations. The way his fingers gripped the sheets or the edge of the table, how much his toes curled, oh, yes, his body did not lie.

Loki's gasps turned into long, low moans, little shouts when Fandral increased the pace, fucking into Loki hard and fast, listening to constant sounds of pleasure Loki made. That was Fandral's favourite moment, when Loki stopped controlling himself. The prince, always so vain and composed, sounded like a wanton whore that cannot be sated. He wanted more and faster and harder, and please, please.

Fandral enjoyed it most when Loki came first. Watching his body trembling, convulsing, struck by pleasure so intense it numbed Loki for some time. Fandral knew how to push him over the edge, sometimes it was a competition- who would climax first. Loki lost almost every time. It was enough to give him one or two harsh slaps, pull at his hair, hard, or tell him how filthy he was, what a mess he was going to make.

'Thor will see you at the table,' Fandral whispered, stilling his hips for a moment, so Loki could actually hear him. 'He will notice your limping. He will know what a shameless harlot you are. Still filled with my seed, you will talk to the Allfather as if nothing happened. You slut.'

'Oh gods!'

Loki pressed his face to the pillow and screamed at the top of his voice, long shouts of pure pleasure, muffled and beautiful. His muscles tightened and flexed rhythmically, Loki whined and panted, wetting the pillow with his saliva because he was so spent and tired he forgot how to swallow. He didn't have enough strength to turn his head to the side, his face still hidden. Sometimes Fandral would catch a strand of his hair and make him arch his back, sometimes he would place his palm on the back of Loki's head, keeping him in place. Loki appreciated both options, his body finally relaxed, he lay completely still, letting Fandral use him to finish himself.

Afterwards, trying to catch his breath, Loki would still gasp a little, his chest heaving. He wouldn't move for another hour or so, too drowsy and too fucked out to do anything. He did not care about all those fluids drying on his body. It was an unexpected sight and Fandral wanted to keep it in his mind. Loki, the Silvertongue, a pampered prince, lying under a warrior, silenced and filthy, and smiling.

 


End file.
